


The Rounds

by TeddyRadiator



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyRadiator/pseuds/TeddyRadiator
Summary: Dear akatnamedeaster, I hope you will enjoy this short, rather choppy story. You are always so inspirational and supportive, and I have wanted to give you something in return. I hope my efforts will please you. It was a very powerful song, and songs always feed the Muse. This story has been lovingly beta’d by stgulik, who is the best there is. Thank you, Jules, for always being there to make me a better writer.Prompt by akatnamedeaster: LeavingBased on the song Hanging Tree by Bob Mould
Relationships: Sirius Black/Severus Snape
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	The Rounds

_Another exit on the freeway  
Another bridge I cannot bear to cross alone  
And I’ve been on the mend  
I’ve been getting ready to change my name again  
And once I had a love so fair  
Once I had a reason to keep on  
You left a paragraph taped upon my door  
It said, ‘Don’t wait up ’cause I ain’t comin’ home’  
So I’ve been driving far and wide to find my call in life  
Been looking for a place where I belong  
I guess a little pain never killed anyone  
Well, I guess I feel that way again  
Well, I can’t come clean, I cannot stay  
Got no reason to explain  
I’ve been here too long, I need a change  
And I hope you’ll understand  
Stained glass window never gonna carry my name  
Been laid to rest in a field of sticks and stones  
And above my head all that’s left are footsteps  
Of some kid too young, too far away from home  
So don’t send me invitations to your big parade  
Place of residence unknown  
In my eyes there is no compromise  
There is no calm before the storm  
These things happen all the time  
Should I throw myself from the hanging tree?  
Is there a place for those of us who don’t belong?  
Well, I haven’t found it yet_  
~ _Hanging Tree,_ Bob Mould

* * *

The pub was as run down at the heels as one would expect in this side of town. Muggle, of course. Even now, five years after Tom Riddle breathed his last, no one was in a hurry to buy Severus Snape a round in any Wizarding establishment.

He approached the grimy bar, ordered a pint of IPA, and watched as the Australian barmaid pulled the liquid into his glass. Even she looked dim and colourless, as if her employment had leached out the last bit of spirit that had got her halfway around the world, to end up here, in this seedy, shit-stained heap of a pub.

Severus knew exactly how she felt.

It was quiet even for a Tuesday. He found a table that looked as if it had at least a passing acquaintance with a bar towel in the last three months. He sat with his back to the wall, his hands curled around his pint, almost too worn to even lift it to his lips.

His thoughts, never the jolliest of propositions, were as black as his old leather jacket when he thought of his life and what it had become. He had hoped for something better after the war; now he was just treading water. In his mind, he saw himself as a youth, full of bristling, hot-wired energy, angry, sullen, mistrusting, but alive. Merlin, he had once been alive. His life may have been lived in the shadow of terror and shame, but at least he’d felt _something_. Now he felt nothing. He was existing out of habit, too resigned to try anything more challenging than choosing either bitter or stout for his evening pint. He’d even stopped fretting over his piece of mind, just preferring to slide into depression without really having to think too much about it anymore.

He was already there, and it didn’t seem any better or worse today than the day before, and it probably wouldn’t feel much different tomorrow.

A shadow fell over the table, and it was a tribute to his lethargy that he didn’t even bother to look up to see who had approached him. “Mind if I join you, Snape?” a voice said.

_Merlin’s arse_ , thought Severus with a sigh. Getting caught in a drunken brawl was the last thing on his agenda. “Leave me be, Black. In case it’s escaped blazing powers of deduction, this is a Muggle bar. I’m not here to cause any shit.”

“Well, there’s a coincidence. I’m not here to take any.” Sirius Black placed his pint of Guinness on the table and sat down on one of the low stools. His long legs jutted up ludicrously, giving him the look of a man sitting at a child’s low tea table. He gave Severus a cheerful shrug. “Why do two old acquaintances have to fight just because they turn up in the same bar?”

Gazing through his curtain of less-than-clean hair, Severus took a drink of his bitter and risked a look at his old enemy. He was dressed in jeans and a blue chambray shirt. His hair, once as black as his name, was flecked with silver and shining with health. Black was one of the few people Severus knew who had managed to improve with age. He bore the scrutiny well, a faint smile playing about his lips.

Severus grumbled, “I suppose I can’t stop you. It’s a free country.”

Well, there you go.” Black lifted his Guinness and saluted him. “To a free Wizarding Britain, and a distinct lack of shit-stirring. Long may they both continue.”

Sourly, Severus drank with him, watching Black’s throat work as he swallowed his pint. It was a long neck, still smooth in spite of his age. Unconsciously, Severus shrugged, raising his collar over the hideous scar that marred the right side of his own neck. “What are you doing here, Black?”

“Well,” he began, stifling a belch, “I wanted a drink, and used my blazing powers of deduction to root out the best place to get one.” He glanced around, “It’s not the Ritz, but then again, they won’t let me in the Ritz dressed like this─”

Severus abruptly rose from his chair. Black grasped his hand. “Look, I didn’t know this was your local. I’m not here to give you any grief.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I get nervous, my mouth runs away with me, yeah? C’mon, sit back down. I’ll shut up so you can at least enjoy your drink.”

Warily, Severus resumed his seat.They drank in silence for a few minutes, and Severus thought tiredly how he would have once reacted to Sirius Black. He would have hexed first and asked questions later. But that was long ago, when he had a life, when he had wanted to feel in control. Now that he knew control was an empty trick, he no longer cared about hurting anyone, least of all himself.

He glanced up at Black, who blinked nervously, then looked away. “Well, this is every bit as awkward as I was hoping it wouldn’t be,” Black quipped, draining his glass. With a twitch of his lips, he said, “Tell you what. I’ll buy the next round. What’re you having?”

Later, it would occur to Severus that he really could have changed things by politely refusing, then leaving and returning to his home. He could have left with his safe brand of existence still plastered together, and no one would have been the wiser.

Instead, he said, “Bitter.”

Black did most of the talking through his round, with Severus listening, occasionally scoffing, just as often snorting a disused laugh. Halfway through his round, he found himself answering Black’s questions─well, the ones that were safe to answer.

“You mean I’ve just moved three streets away from you and I didn’t even know it?” Sirius mused, shaking his head. Somewhere between Severus’ round and Sirius’ second, he had become Sirius instead of Black.

“You knew where I lived,” Severus replied testily. “It’s the same place I’ve lived all my life.”

I suppose I’d forgotten.” Sirius tilted his head, a gesture that struck Severus as flirtatious. “If I had known, I’d swung round and invited you over to my housewarming party.”

Severus sneered. “I’m sure your friends would have been thrilled.”

Sirius shrugged. “My friends are my friends, but we’re not in school anymore, Severus. They don’t see you that way.”

“Everyone sees me _that_ way.” Severus could feel his anger rising. “I’m sure they would have jumped at the chance to let me know exactly how they ‘see’ me.”

“Hey, calm down,” Sirius said, glancing around. “I’m not the enemy here, Severus.”

“Then who is?” he said, feeling that old, treacherous bile in the back of his throat.

“I don’t know, mate. But there’s only two people at this table.” Sirius’ voice was strangely gentle, and he reached into his pocket for a packet of fags. Severus allowed himself to be mollified with the cigarette. He even produced a Muggle lighter. Sirius held his hand steady as he lit up, and their smoke plumes merged into the air over their heads. Severus stood. “I’ll get the next round.”

Sirius gave him a look of exaggerated surprise. “And here I was thinking you couldn’t wait to get rid of me.” He winked. “So tell me, Snape, and tell me true: could it be that I’m finally growing on you?”

Severus snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself, Black. I’ll just not have it said that I was too mean to match a round even if it does mean suffering your company.”

“Tit for tat, eh?”

“More like the other way around, I should say.” Sirius’ laughter followed him to the bar.

Talk resumed, slowly, stiffly, as they gradually rubbed away at the rough parts of the conversation, smoothing them over like grooves in a road, until they could at last speak freely. By then, they were into third and fourth rounds, and it was getting late.

Just as Severus was rising to his feet to get the next round, the bell rang time. The barmaid approached their table and Severus realised they were the last two punters left. “Finish up, lads,” she announced, giving Sirius a cool glance any man could read. “Hey, big guy, I haven’t seen you around before, have I? Did you get lost on your way back to heaven?” She leaned forward, giving both of them a generous view of her breasts. “Maybe I can help you find your way home.”

“Sorry, love. We’re just on our way.” Sirius smiled up at her to take the sting out of his word, but she still looked disappointed. With a sniff, she moved back to the bar and shut off the music.

“You’ve definitely pulled,” Severus said, and to his surprise, Sirius blushed. “What? I don’t recall you being all that choosey.”

Sirius pulled a face. “’Did you get lost on your way back to heaven?’ Blimey, I think that will go down in history as the worst chat-up line I’ve ever received, and I’ve been to American bars.” He chuckled, a low musical sound that pleased Severus. “Perhaps I’ve become a little more discerning in my tastes.”

They walked together out in the damp night air. The alcohol hit Severus’ head more quickly than he had anticipated. As they stood, smoking in silence, Severus realised he wasn’t in any hurry to get away from Sirius. When was the last time that had happened?

Before he could make a fool out of himself and say something he would have to Obliviate Sirius over, he turned away and said, “Well, Black, it’s been an interesting evening, but…”

Sirius gave him a sad smile. “Like that, is it? And here I was, planning to invite you round for coffee.” He nodded toward the pub, where the lights were already off. “At the very least, you could protect me from the advances of her inside the doors.”

Severus stared at him, too unnerved to decide whether or not Sirius was taking the piss. “I don’t think─”

“Good.” Sirius pulled him into the shadows, pressing close. “Thinking is overrated.”

Then he kissed him.

It had been a very long time since Severus had been kissed, and the very first time by a man. His thoughts flew in every direction, as each sensation presented itself like a police lineup. He felt Sirius’s body, warm and hard, his growing erection nudging sinuously against his own. The fingers that stroked his cheeks, the soft puffs of air as Sirius breathed against his skin. His body flushed first with ice, then with fire. Sirius’ mouth was soft and his kisses practiced; he tasted of malt and burned tobacco. When his tongue slipped between Severus’ lips, he reared back, stunned, trying to make his brain say something, _do_ something, and then he was pulling Sirius back into his arms, moaning into that finely shaped mouth, his own kisses artless and frantic, and he wondered what in Merlin’s name he was supposed to do now.

Sirius Apparated them back to his flat, but Severus scarcely noticed. He was too shaken, too frightened of what was happening, what _might_ be happening. Was it all a trick? Were people waiting there to point and laugh at his disheveled hair, his obvious erection, his stupidity? He glanced around, looking for anyone in hiding, sending out wandless, wordless detection spells, checking for any magical residue tainted with subterfuge. He could find none. There was no one in the flat but him and the handsome wizard tugging at his coat, silently urging him to undress.

“What are you doing?” Severus asked, then cursed himself for sounding like a virgin in a penny dreadful. Sirius must have thought the same, because he laughed, then kissed Severus again.

“I’m trying to get you naked, so we can fuck,” he said, smiling down at Severus. His smile faded, and he faltered, and that minor note of uncertainty turned everything upside down. “I…I didn’t misread this, did I? I thought─”

Severus silenced him with a kiss. “That’s where you made your mistake, Black. Thinking is overrated, remember?”

* * *

Severus awoke, thrashing in the unfamiliar bed, biting back a scream of fear. He was drenched in sweat and his heart was beating so hard it was skipping beats. He swallowed hard, and stumbled blindly toward the direction of what he hoped was the toilet.

He was in luck. He held onto the doorframe as he vomited violently, whimpering in shame and distress.

A gentle hand pulled his hair away from his face. “Are you okay?” The voice, several octaves lower than normal from sleep, sounded genuinely concerned, but Severus was still in the grip of his nightmare and its inevitable aftermath, and he didn’t trust anything or anyone.

“Get away from me!” he growled, or tried to. His throat was clogged with vomit and fear, and his ragged words came out as little more than a squawk. He pushed away from Sirius, and ran water into the sink, splashing his face and rinsing his mouth. He glanced up into the mirror, and saw his gaunt, sallow face, his over-large eyes, wide and staring and blank. Behind him, Sirius waited patiently, looking worried and grim.

“Want to talk about it?” he said, but Severus shook his head. To his surprise, Sirius pressed against his back and put his arms around Severus. It was an intimate embrace, but without the fevered lust of the previous hours, it just felt like comfort. Severus ached to break away, but he couldn’t, even though he knew that a lover’s embrace was only a heartbeat away from death.

He allowed himself to be guided back to the bedroom, where Sirius dressed him in his discarded pants. With his arm still around Severus’ waist, he propelled them into the kitchen, and sat him down at the kitchen table while he put the kettle on.

Sirius made the tea strong, and poured condensed milk in it. It tasted like nectar. As they drank, Sirius cleared his throat and said quietly, “I have a confession to make. I did know you lived close by. I’ve seen you out and about, and I’ve wanted to approach you for a long time. I just didn’t know how.”

Severus eyed him warily. “Were you that desperate for a shag?”

Sirius barked startled laughter, and Severus ended up laughing with him. The more they laughed, the more he couldn’t stop laughing, and the more the horrible acid sting in his throat eased.

Wiping tears from their eyes, they finally calmed, and Sirius lit two cigarettes with the tip of his wand and passed one to Severus. “Harry and the Weasleys are very good friends, and they try to include me as much as possible. And I’m grateful; they have their own lives and I don’t want to be in the way.” He paused. “But I will confess I miss people my own age. And I was hoping you might feel the same. And you looked like you could use a friend.”

The last of the laughter faded from Severus’ heart. “I’m nobody’s friend,” he replied, feeling the bitter, leaden truth of it. “I don’t deserve friends after what I─after Lily─”

“Stop that now, Severus Snape. You didn’t kill them,” Sirius shot back angrily. “James Potter was my best friend. I was supposed to be his Secret Keeper, but I gave it to Pettigrew. Does that make me any less responsible than you?”

Severus looked down into his tea cup. He saw a crescent moon patterned in the dregs. “I hated you so much. I thought you had betrayed her.” He closed his eyes. “I hated you because I hated myself for betraying her too. I thought we were one and the same.”

Sirius did not answer immediately. “We were, Severus. But not because we killed them. But because we loved them.”

From behind Severus’ eyes came that tell-tale burning, the one he was unable to stop, the one he had conditioned himself to ignore until it went away, the one he had punished himself with curses and hexes to tame. It burned now as if he’d never once in his life sliced open his flesh to quell it. It filled his eyes with hot tears until he could not hold them back. With a muttered curse, he turned away, letting the tears hold sway. Crying hurt him so. It twisted his body, contorted his sinews into spasms, made him feel helpless and motherless and friendless, and still he could not stop them. Finally Sirius held him, crooning, rubbing his limbs _hard_ , until the pain eased, the spasms unlocked their death grip, and his sobs dwindled.

“I understand,” Sirius said finally, and for all that had come between them, the hatred and animosity and rivalry, Severus realised that Sirius was possibly the only one who could.

As Sirius made more tea, Severus confessed, “I haven’t dreamed in a long time. And it’s been even longer since…

“I was standing with the Dark Lord, trying to pacify him, trying to find an escape route. I was seconds away from death, and there was nothing I could do about it.” He closed his eyes. “That fucking snake. It was so fast. All I could do was lie there and let it tear out my throat. And all the time I was thinking, ‘Is this all there is? Is this what all of the hell has been about?’”

He was crying again, but he didn’t even realise it until the first tears splashed on his hand. “I was going to die for nothing. And I thought, ‘this is all I deserve after what I’ve done’.”

Sirius sat down beside him. “We don’t choose who we love, Severus. We love them, and whether they love us back is completely out of our hands. All we can do is deal with the fallout.”

Severus looked up at the man who had taken him home, and saw a handsome man whose dreams had run out on him, who was as alone as he. He too, had been thrown away, left to rot in his own remorse. Severus had endured it at the manipulative hands of Albus Dumbledore, and Sirius at the tender mercies of Azkaban. That they were both alive and reasonably sane was probably some sort of minor miracle, when you thought about it.

“But you have friends who love you,” he said, and was only a little ashamed of the accusing tone in his voice.

“And I love them. I’ll tell you something for free, Severus.” He leaned in to tuck a stray hair behind Severus’ ear. “I was a worthless shit when I was young. And I’m sorry for all the stupid, arsehole things I’ve done in my life. Azkaban taught me that I could live without love, but I’ve learned that I can’t live without loving.”

He smiled sadly. “Remus Lupin. Gods, I love that man. He had time for everyone in the world except himself. And I love Reg, even though he’s gone, and I love Lily and James, and Harry and his children, because that’s all I have left of them. Most of the people I love are dead, but I still love them, because I’m afraid if I don’t, I’ll forget how to love someone living. And loving is the only thing that saved me from myself.”

“You were always a sentimental twat,” Severus mumbled, but it was a paper tiger insult, and Sirius ignored it, and took his hand. He led Severus back to his bed.

He was gentle, sucking Severus’ cock with deep, moaning strokes that bathed away the last remnants of his nightmare. And when he quietly prepared himself, and raised his smooth, strong arse up like an offering, Severus mounted him with as much tenderness as he could lay claim to. He wanted to be slow and easy, but the exquisite sensation of his cock sheathed in that hot, tight opening drilled something deep inside his head. The more he tried to hold back, the more Sirius moaned and pushed back against him, until he was clutching Sirius’ hips, thrusting into him with all his strength, his balls aching for release.

He clumsily reached round and caught Sirius’ cock in hand and stroked it hard in rhythm with his pumping hips. Sirius shuddered and begged, “Please, Severus, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop ah _gods_ ─”

He felt the warm wet cum splash over his fingers as he found his own blistering climax with a final punishing, roaring thrust. They collapsed on the bed together, panting and breathless. Sirius rolled over and kissed him again. His kisses were flavoured with sweet tea and Severus’ own juices.

“Stay,” he whispered against Severus’ lips. “Stay and be my friend.”

Severus listened as Sirius’ breathing slowed, then deepened. He lay awake for a long time. _Stay and be my friend._ No one had ever asked that of him before. He had been enemy to many. It was both thrilling and frightening to believe he might know something new, something better for a change.

“I don’t know how to be someone’s friend,” he whispered.

He waited until he was sure Sirius was asleep, then rose from the bed, dressed, and left.

* * *

Sirius heard the soft snick of a closing bolt as Severus let himself out. He was a little disappointed, but not entirely surprised. “No, you _don’t_ have a clue how to be a friend,” he answered to the empty flat. “But you always were a fast learner.”

He stretched, then rolled over and groped for his wand. He lit a cigarette and lay in the dark, watching the glowing end as it flared and dimmed with each drag. Friendships took time, and trust. Time, they both had plenty of. The rest would come eventually. They were enough alike for Sirius to know that.


End file.
